I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it
by PrincessFiona073
Summary: AU One-shot where Jeremy stays dead at the end of season 4, Elena doesn't make a choice between the brothers, and instead flees to Europe to try and move past her grief, and Bonnie never dies.


**A/N Hey TVD Fans! This is my first fan fiction in this fandom, but strangely enough I've been a fan of TVD far longer than any other tv show I've written for. Anyway, thanks for reading this guys! I hope you all enjoy it, the idea kind of just came to me and I wrote it down so. . . feel free to tell me what you think! Now just a small heads up guys, this one shot mentions both Delena and Stelena. Now personally, I have always been Team Stefan but this story is about both of the ships, with Elena making observations about both of her relationships with the Salvatore brothers. Bare in mind, this is my own interpretation of each ship, so if you disagree with any observations or comments that I've made please say so NICELY in a constructive way, and not just mindless bashing. Much appreciated.**

 **Fionakevin073**

 **Summary: AU Where at the end of Season 4 where Jeremy stays dead and Elena leaves Mystic Falls alone to travel the world and mourn her brother, without Stefan or Damon. Bonnie is still alive, Katherine didn't take the cure and Silas is now at the bottom of the lake.**

 _I walked through the door with you, the air was cold,_

 _But something 'bout it felt like home somehow and I_

 _Left my scarf there at your sister's house,_

 _And you still got it in your drawer even now._

 _Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze._

 _We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate._

 _The Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place,_

 _And I can picture it after all these days._

 _And I know it's long gone,_

 _And that magic's not here no more,_

 _And I might be okay,_

 _But I'm not fine at all._

 _'Cause there we are again on that little town street._

 _You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over me._

 _Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well._

 _Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red._

 _You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-size bed_

 _And your mother's telling stories about you on a tee ball team_

 _You tell me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me._

 _And I know it's long gone_

 _And there was nothing else I could do_

 _And I forget about you long enough_

 _To forget why I needed to_

 _'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night._

 _We dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light_

 _Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well, yeah._

 _Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much,_

 _And maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up._

 _Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well._

 _Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise._

 _So casually cruel in the name of being honest._

 _I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here_

 _'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well._

 _Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it_

 _I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it_

 _After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own_

 _Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone_

 _But you keep my old scarf from that very first week_

 _'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me_

 _You can't get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah_

 _'Cause there we are again, when I loved you so_

 _Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known_

 _It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well_

 _Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all_

 _Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all_

 _It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well_

— _Taylor Swift, All too well_

 _i._

Elena doesn't believe that she's doing it until after she passes the _Come Back To Mystic Falls! We hoped you enjoyed your stay!_ sign on her way to the airport. The sign jolts her senses, and if her heart was still beating she was sure it would either crumble from exhaustion or emotion; though she is not sure which.

Elena isn't sure of anything anymore.

 _Not that that's new,_ her subconscious whispers, and she frowns slightly, her hands tightening on the wheel. It's dark outside as she drives herself far, far away from Mystic falls but Elena can still as clear as day. She is the only car out on the road but she can hear the whispers of the outside. It scares her how she is almost used to all of these new aspects of her life that she never had before.

She's forgetting what it's like to be human.

Which is ridiculous because she's only been a vampire for a grand total of 4 months and suddenly Stefan and Damon and Caroline and Bonnie and Matt's face's flash before her eyes and—

 _No._

She lets out a tired breath and shakes her head, looking at the road ahead determinedly.

Elena can't think about any of them right now.

 _ii._

Elena arrives at the airport at 4 o'clock in the morning with nothing except the clothes on her body, her phone, her passport and her wallet that contains credit cards that access all of the Gilbert family's money. Now that she was the only member of the Gilbert Clan left and a legal adult, graduated from high school and everything no one cared what she did with the rest of the Gilbert family heirlooms or property anymore (not that much was left anyway, after she burnt down her house).

 _Jeremy Jeremy Jeremy—_

Elena walks calmly into the airport and buys a one-way ticket to France with money from her bank account. No compulsion. Nothing supernatural.

She ignores the way the lady eyes her with barely concealed disapproval as she takes Elena in with her white dress and beat up all-stars with no bag or anything. Elena must look like some kind of runaway or something, and her lips twitch upwards at the thought because _hey, for once that's actually not far from the truth._

She gets on the plane an hour after that, and the person who sits beside her is out cold before the plane even takes off. She sits there against the cold leather of the chair, but all she can feel is this numbness seeping it's way into her heart and—

Her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket and she pulls it out mechanically, and stares down at the flashing screen.

 _Damon._

Elena locks her jaw and shuts off her phone, and stared out the window, ignoring the wave of emotions threatening to break through. She falls asleep with the memory of her brother's smile ingrained on the back of her eyelids and grief slamming into her like waves on a cliff.

 _iii._

Elena is shaken awake by the air hostess and she wakes with a jolt, her brother's name on her lips and then she realises—

"Sorry Miss," the air hostess tells her, smiling at her widely. Elena stares up at her confusedly for a moment, taking in the sight of her slightly smudged lipstick and the barely evident black circles around her eyes that are covered by a thick layer of foundation.

"Yes?" she replies, and then she looks around and notices the near-empty plane, and unbuckles herself quickly, standing up with so much energy that she can see the unnerved expression that flashes in the air hostesses eye.

"Thank you for waking me," Elena tells her, rubbing at her eyes, and she doesn't wait for a response before making her way down the aisle and off the plane. She hesitates before she finally steps out of the jet bridge and for a moment she can practically feel a rope tightening around her, pulling her back to Mystic Falls, to her friends, to her family to her—

 _Jeremy Jeremy Jeremy—_

Elena steps out of the jet bridge and into the airport hallway and she is suddenly bombarded with all this _noise_ and _movement_ and French Curse words and wheels screeching against the airport floor and for the first time in 24 hours, Elena allows herself to smile.

 _iv._

The taxi driver is a nice, friendly guy, who doesn't eye her with suspicion when he notices her lack of luggage or company, for that matter. He tells her his name is Gaston like the villain in Beauty and the Beast, and his french accent is heavy when he speaks to her about business and Paris and he only asks her small, non-invasive questions like _is this your first time here?_ or _how long do you plan on staying?_

She had replied with a small nod at the first question and a half-hearted shrug at the second but he doesn't push her, and without her even asking he drives her to a beautiful looking inn called _Le Pavillon des Lettres_ that looks like some classy hotel someone would see in some romance movie. _It's only 3 kilometres from the Eiffel Tower as well!_ he had exclaimed, right as he had pulled up in front of it. _You should be able to see the tower from your window!_

Elena had barely noticed anything from outside the car. She stands there outside the hotel doors and it's night time in Paris and the city is full of light and noise and tourists and shops but Elena feels so _cold and so alone_ that all she wants to do is curl up into a ball and cry.

She marches into the hotel and books a room on the top floor for two weeks and slams her door shut when she enters her room and _fuck fuck fuck_ her hands are _shaking_ and she feels so _alone_ and _why the hell aren't I crying?_

Elena somehow manages to strip herself out of her clothing once she tossed her belonging onto a nearby table and she leaves her clothes in a heap by the door and walks around her suite nude and falls face first onto the Queen sized bed, sighing into the silky sheets. The moonlight shines through the blinds and she can practically feel it _burning_ into her skin, like how the sun would if she took off her daylight ring. She manages to crawl under the covers and onto her side, her back facing the window, and glances down at the ring on her right hand, watches as it gleams in the darkness and something inside of her breaks.

 _I'll get to be with you forever,_ she had said once, back when she was _her,_ _if I want._

Elena doesn't even remember who that girl is anymore.

 _v._

The only time Elena moves is when she shifts sleeping positions.

She doesn't know how long she lays there, staring at the ceiling, the painting on the wall, the golden doorknob that she is sure leads to the bathroom. She can hear her phone ring from all away across the suite but she makes no move to get it. She simply lays there. Elena can see the sun rise higher and higher into the sky but she does not move.

She can't move. Her limbs are too heavy and her heart is too tired to even try to summon the strength to get up. She may be a vampire, and she may have the physical strength that comes with it, but Elena has never felt so weak in her entire life.

And so she lays there for hours and can feel herself begin to melt into the mattress, can feel the sheets begin to sink into her skin and finally, finally, once the sky has turned into a soft orange coloured with purple and pink hues does she finally force herself out of bed. She pads over to the shower and turns the temperature all the way to full blast and she steps under the shower head. The heat burns her skin but Elena does not wince. She can feel her skin begin to turn red and blister under the heat but strangely enough it makes her feel better, cleaner. As though the water was washing all the blood and grief away, all the tears, all the hurt.

She stands there until the water turns cold, and then wraps herself in one of those soft, warm robes that her and her mom used to steal from hotels whenever they travelled somewhere as a family. Elena stiffens as the memories flood through her brain but she quickly shakes her head and pulls the sleeves of her robe up. Elena looks at herself in the foggy mirror, and all she see's is a shell of what she used to be.

A girl with a mom. A girl with a dad and a brother and friends and a boyfriend whom loved her and was good for her even if deep down inside she wanted more. She can see her eyes begin to darken in the mirror, the veins begin to appear near the sides of her eyes and her fangs begin to grow and she is suddenly overcome with this overwhelming pit in her stomach, signalling the lack of blood she had consumed in 48 hours.

Elena can taste the blood on her tongue. She can feel the warm liquid slither down her throat and set her stomach on fire and her stomach growls loudly. Elena sighs at her reflection, and suddenly she looks like herself again, the veinless and fangless _her._

 _vi._

Elena feeds on the server who brings her room service, and the moment he entered the room and the door was shut she pounced on him, sinking her fangs deep into the side of his neck, relishing in the feeling of the blood making it's way down her throat and setting fire to her veins. She can feel him begin to grow slump against her, and can hear his heart begin to slow and his cries begin to quieten and then suddenly she remembers _find the thing inside of you that makes you want to live, Elena. Let in, let it in._

The words echo in her head so loudly that she pushes the waiter away from her and bites into her wrist, forcing him to feed on her blood. But all Elena can see in her mind is all of those innocent people she killed when her emotions her off, all of the people she fed on, and the overwhelming guilt that made her want to die.

"Forget this ever happened," she tells the waiter, compelling him once he had fully healed and she had wiped away the stains of blood off the side of his neck. The waiter nods obediently, and she watches numbly as he makes his way out of her room, looking rather bewildered.

Elena exhales once the door closes.

Her phone begins to ring.

 _vii._

This pattern continues for two days before Elena finally leaves her hotel room.

She picks up her dress from the floor and frowns as she notices how wrinkled it is, but she doesn't have anything else to wear, and so with a heavy sigh she slips her clothes on and tries her best not to look as uncomfortable as she feels. The sun shines through the window, and Elena stares at the view ahead of her, taking in the numerous buildings and houses on the horizon.

A small amused sound escapes her lips as she notices the Eiffel tower looming ahead of her. Gaston was right after all. After pocketing her wallet and her passport, Elena hesitates before she packs her phone with her but she relaxes with the knowledge that she had run out of battery the previous night.

 _(There are other ways for them to find you,_ her subconscious whispers. Elena slams the door on her way out)

She spends the morning walking around the streets of Paris, observing the world around her with an emotionless expression but with a hint of sadness in her eyes. She had wanted to come here with Bonnie and Caroline years ago, once they had graduated, and then she had wanted to come with Stefan, and then she had wanted Damon to take her travelling all around the world once she had turned.

Her chest aches at the thought, and she quickly shoves all thoughts of Damon out of her mind. Elena walks, she observes, but she doesn't join in on the joy around her; in the wonder, in the freedom in all of their eyes and the laughter that bubbles in the tourists throats. Elena felt like a ghost in Mystic Falls, but at least she had been a familiar one. She stares at a young couple with something very akin to envy, but she isn't sure what she's envious for.

 _Love?_ she thinks for a fleeting moment, before she snorts quietly, a scowl playing on her lips. _Hypocrite,_ her mind whispers, and she walks into a boutique. Elena merely tells the helper at the store to pick out whatever she thinks will fit her and whatever looks god, and she waits patiently for the lady to finish.

She returns to the hotel with 8 bags of clothing, lingerie and toiletries on each arm and a phone adapter and charger that she stole from an American tourist shoved into one of the bags.

"You have done a lot of shopping!" one of the porters exclaims in French and Elena flashes him a small smile that quickly dissolves off her face once she enters her room, locking the door behind her. She flops down on the bed, sighing loudly, and fishes the charger and adapter out of her pocket and flings it across the room, not even bothering to look up.

 _Jeremy Jeremy Jeremy Jeremy—_

 _viii._

The next few weeks go like this:

She wakes up in her bed, she feeds on the first person she finds and then she curls up into a ball, helpless to the waves of grief slamming into her continuously. She can't breathe because of how consuming they are, and there are moments when she can't even move— can't even _think_ because _Jeremy Jeremy Jeremy._

His name is both a chant and a prayer on her lips and it burns and bruises her mouth as she whispers it during the night, the day— all the fucking time. Her brother is _dead, gone, deceased,_ and there is not one fucking thing she can do about it and so she lays there motionlessly as tears stream down her face in the dead of the night.

She wonders sometimes if turning it off would make this easier, but Elena _knows_ that the grief wouldn't go away. It would always be looming over her like a fucking shadow, always threatening to take over and being 100 times worse when it did. And grief isn't the only ghost haunting her at night. There are times when the words _monster murderer killer unworthy weak_ play over and over in her head until she can practically feel them ingrained onto her skin. She remembers the waitress she killed— just to prove a fucking point to the two boys who loved (love) her— and thinks about her family and her loved ones and in those moments Elena merely wants to chuck off her ring and burn in the sunlight, leaving only a heap of ashes in her wake.

Something always stops her, however, whenever she begins to slide her ring off to end her misery.

(She ignores the way her heart whispers _someone_ )

(The worst part is, is that deep down she doesn't even know who that someone is. _Someone_ has both blue and green eyes that captured her heart and Caroline's laughter and Bonnie's unwavering strength and Matt's loyalty and Tyler's determination. _Someone_ is her Mom, her Dad, Jeremy, Alaric, Jenna— even John.)

 _ix._

Gradually, her grief begins to lessen. Elena doesn't know how, or why, but suddenly she wakes up one day and she _wants_ to get out of bed for some reason other than to feed. And so hesitantly, she tosses the blankets off her body and gets ready for a day out in the city of Paris. She combs her ratty hair and frowns at the sight of the red highlights, and suddenly has this sudden urge to rip them out of her skull. She doesn't though, and merely combs her hair until it looks shiny and untangled. She strips out of her impromptu pyjama's and slips on a comfortable pair of light blue jeans and a white and blue striped button up top that she matches with a black belt and a navy blue scarf. She slips into her beat up all stars, the only piece of clothing she is currently wearing that is tied to her old life.

She looks sophisticated and _good._ As though she hadn't spent the last two weeks lying in her bed without brushing her hair or showering. She lets out a small sigh and slings a black handbag over her shoulder— the only one she bought— and packs her phone, passport, wallet and keys before heading out of the room and changing the sign on her door from _do not disturb_ to _needs cleaning._

And then she explores.

She walks through alleyways and streets both lavish and dull and keeps track of them all in her mind like a map. Elena buys one of those polaroid camera's in a small store and snaps pictures continuously, but never of herself. She goes to the Eiffle Tower and takes numerous pictures of the view before finally asking someone to take a picture of her She visits the Louvre later on in the day, and spends hours upon hours wondering around the museum, her heart in her throat all the while. She ignores all the missed calls she's received and snaps some pictures but just as she is about to log off she can't help but stare at the screen.

 _122 missed calls._

Elena can feel everything slow around her as she stares at the screen intensely, before she shakes her head, breaking the spell.

She visits the Mona Lisa after that, and she manages to make her way through the large crowd so that she is right in the front. She stands there, staring at the painting intently, and uncaringly snaps a picture. She frowns at the painting, and tilts her head slightly, transfixed. She recognises the smirk on Mona Lisa's face, the curve of her lips that could be mistaken for a smile but Elena _know's_ better. Mona Lisa is smiling at her like she know's something that Elena doesn't and god damn it Elena can't help but be reminded of Katherine and suddenly her body is practically _radiating_ the hate she suddenly feels and she shoves her way through the line, and bolts to the bathroom.

 _I can't, I can't, I can't. Please make it stop it hurts._

Elena rubs a hand over her throat, her emotions overwhelming her as she locks herself in a stall. _Damn it damn it damn it._ Elena lets out a choked breath that sounds an awful lot like a sob and unlocks the stall, ignoring the concerned and weirded out glances the other women send her way. She runs a hand through her hair tiredly, and makes her way out of the bathroom, and reaches for her phone and turns it on. Her lock screen is a picture of her and Jeremy, and she flinches at the sight of him before shoving the phone back in her bag, and hurriedly rushes out of the museum, her joy long forgotten.

She walks around the city with no end in sight, and the sky begins to turn dark when she finally stops in front of payphone, and before she can stop herself she's frantically shoving in the appropriate amount of coins to make an international call and she presses the phone to ear, her heart in her throat and her stomach lurches as the phone rings and—

"Hello?" his voice sounds tired, groggy, as though Elena either woke him up or interrupted him from doing something.

She gasps at the sound of his voice, and she lets go of the phone in fright before jogging away from it, and she sits down on nearby bench that overlooks the Seine River. The sky is mixture of orange and purple hues that look as though they are melting across the horizon. The city lights are already beginning to shine even though the sun isn't even fully set, and the tourists are still out and about. She doesn't even notice someone's sitting next to her until they speak.

"Hi."

Elena jumps at the sound, and whips her head to look at her, startled. She comes face to face with a middle aged woman with greying blonde hair and kind blue eyes, with that kind of maternal glint in her eyes that reminds Elena of her mother.

"Um, hi," Elena returns awkwardly, trying to hold onto what's left of her dignity.

"Sorry, you seemed like you were going through something and I wanted to make sure you were okay," the woman says, her voice tinted with an accent that Elena can't quite place. The woman doesn't wait for her to respond before she adds on, "I know this may seem a little bit weird or awkward, but I recognise that look in your eye— that expression on your face and I'm here to offer you some advice because you seem like you need it; Let your friends and your family know that you're okay. Send them a letter or a postcard, or _something_ because believe when I say that they are going out of their minds worrying about you. And that person you just called—Sorry, I was waiting for you to finish and I noticed what happened in the booth— it seems like you're very afraid to talk to them, to explain what the hell it is you're doing here but if they really love you then they'll understand. It looks like you need a break from wherever you left so, take all the time you need to sort yourself out."

Elena stares at her, gobsmacked, and just as the woman begins to leave Elena whispers, "Thank you." There's a pause as the woman looks at her kindly, waiting for her to finish. "I needed that."

And then with a kind smile, the woman walks away.

 _x._

Elena tries to head the woman's advice the next day. She sits herself down on a nearby bistro down the street from her hotel, and sets down a notepad she bought clutching a pen in her right hand awkwardly as she takes a sip of the tea she ordered, before nibbling on her croissant. She remembers how easily she used to be able to pour all of her emotions into her diary; how the moment her pen hit the paper the words would come falling out of her like rain from the sky. Now though, rain drops fall and no emotions except from frustration appear inside her.

She bites down on her lower lip and stares down at the blank piece of paper, before sighing loudly, and rubbing a hand over her face. Elena doesn't know who to write to or what to write. Should she tell them about Paris? About how she's doing? Should she apologise and write them all an individual letter? Or should she write one short letter addressed to all of them and let them all read it together. Elena's forehead wrinkles as she pictures Damon, Stefan, Bonnie, Caroline, Matt and Tyler huddling in a circle together as one of them reads her letter aloud and she fights the urge to giggle as she imagines the expressions on all of their faces. The momentary second of happiness vanishes however, when her brain whispers _they deserve more than some letter short of 100 words, Elena._

Elena knows that, but somehow, she can't make herself write anything down.

And so after she finishes her drink and her croissant and tosses a ten euro note on the table and slings her handbag over her shoulder, she explores.

(She leaves Paris the next day, after visiting the Arc de Triumph and Notre Dam before she goes, and she travels all over France. She visits Claude Monet's home in Giverny and rides a white horse in Camargue. She visits the gardens of Versailles and for the first time in a long time, Elena momentarily does not feel the cloud of grief hanging over her head)

 _xi._

Elena stops travelling for two nights when she stops in an inn in Provence for a night before she travels to Italy. She still has not written a word to any of her friends, but she has always made the time to sit there and stare at the blank sheet of paper for two hours every night, before she goes to bed. And so when the suit begins to set, Elena uses her vampire speed to climb up to the roof of the inn with her polaroid camera and her notepad and pen in hand. She snaps a picture of the sun setting over the famous lavender fields, and she smiles at the sight, and she feels _lighter_ for just one second, before she suddenly finds herself writing furiously onto the piece of paper and the words don't make sense at all and they are pouring out of her fingertips but Elena suddenly can't stop writing.

(She doesn't realise that she hasn't addressed any letter to Stefan or Damon until hours later when she finally seals the final envelope)

(She doesn't put a return address for any of them)

 _xii._

 _Dear Caroline,_

 _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For everything. For what I said when I my emotions were off— for what I did to you and your mom. I'm so sorry. I wish that I could take it back but I can't. I don't think that I'll ever be able to apologise enough. I love you so much, and I know you must be angry with me or concerned and that's what makes you so amazing Caroline. You care so much— so unconditionally and I admire you so much for it. I hope you know that you're one of the people that I admire most in this world. You chose to turn into a better person when you became a vampire instead of becoming a shell of the person you used to be. That's what happened to me, and I am so thankful that you fought so hard to bring back the girl I once was— the Elena that was a good friend. I'm so sorry that I treated you so badly, especially with what happened with the sire bond. I have to go find out who I am now, Caroline, and I have to do that on my own. I hope you understand that one day, if you don't already. Don't worry about me, Care, I'm doing okay._

 _Love,_

 _Elena._

 _She slides in a picture of her the cafe that she went to in Paris and seals the envelope._

 _xiii._

Elena travels to Rome the next day with nothing but one suitcase and a thin handbag that she bought on her first day in Paris. She stays in Italy for three weeks, travelling from Rome to Venice to Verona and Florence. She loves Venice the most, and she spends the longest time there than she does in any other place in Italy. She loves the spell of the canal, and the colour of the water as the man rows her around the small city. She falls in love with every single part of Venice, but she never stops moving. Never stops running.

She is running away from the questions that linger in her head, and she knows it. But Elena is still so fucking _afraid— still so fucking fragile—_ she can't even begin to sort out the mess that was her life a few months ago. She doesn't even know what was real— what wasn't; what she said that she meant, what she said that she didn't mean. Elena doesn't know what she wants.

 _I love Damon,_ she thinks, staring down at the water, which is a brilliant shade of blue under the beating sun. She is wearing a large beige sunhat with black ray bans, and a knee length blue and white polka dot dress. Her skin is tan, and she finally got those red highlights out of her hair, so that it's now only a golden brown in the sunlight. _I'll always love Stefan, but I am in love with Damon. I told him I did. I told him it was the most real thing I ever felt in my life._

And Elena remembers herself saying it vividly, almost as if the moment had just passed. She remembers meaning it with every fibre of her being and she still does. Elena allows herself to admit it. Her feelings for Damon had always been something she was ashamed about, as though she had contracted some kind of disease instead of falling in love. She remembers all of it. Elena remembers how his kisses had set her skin on fire, and how in death he had made her feel most alive. She remembers how wild she had felt; as though she could lose herself in every moment she was with him.

But she remembers the bad too.

She remembers the fights they had about her becoming human, about how they both wanted separate things out of life. She remembers the sire bond too— and how that had changed her and turned her into someone that she didn't want to be, someone that she would have become regardless of whether or not she had been sired to Damon. Elena can recollect the memory of her begging Damon not to feed on her brother, not to kill him and she remembers how he couldn't. She remembers the inward disappointment she had felt towards him in those few moments before Stefan had arrived to snap his neck, and how her brain had whispered, _Stefan had managed to resist the compulsion._ Which was an unfair thought, Elena knew that, but some part of her still can't help but think it. But most of all, she remembers how he had told her to turn it off. It's something that's haunted her for weeks now and she know's that he thought he was doing the right thing— that every vampire turns off her humanity; what better moment for her to have done so then? But Elena still can not silence the voice within her that whispers _you should have been able to make that choice on your own._

But that doesn't change anything, all the bad.

If anything, the bad makes the good even better.

Elena shakes her head and pays the man rowing the boat, and shoves those thoughts to the back of her mind.

 _xiv._

 _Dear Bonnie,_

 _I know you would have brought him back if you had the choice. Don't ever think that I don't know that, Bonnie and don't you dare blame yourself for me leaving okay? It is not your fault. It isn't anyone's fault. But I have to do this Bonnie, or else I would've lost my mind. I was already losing it, even before Jeremy died and I need a break. I don't know for how long, or when I'll be back, but I will come back one day, Bonnie. I love you so much, and I hope that you won't hate me for leaving, especially without saying goodbye. I knew that if I did stay to say goodbye, I wouldn't be able to leave and I had too. I had too. I was turning into someone that I didn't even recognise Bonnie, and it wasn't just because I was different because I turned it's because I was. . . lost, confused. I still am. I made some decisions that I need to think through Bonnie. I know that you're okay, or that you will be. You're the strongest person I know. I love you so so much. Be happy Bonnie. You deserve that more than anyone._

 _I'll see you soon._

 _Love,_

 _Elena._

 _She slips a picture of her on the Eiffle Tower into the envelope, and seals it._

 _xv._

Elena travels across Europe from Amsterdam to Spain to Greece (she explores multiple islands there as well, and she loves it almost as much as she loved Venice).

Time flies by, however, and before Elena knows it during her trip to Amsterdam she realises with a sudden jolt that by this time if she had stayed in Mystic Falls, she would be heading off to University now, to study god knows what and party and room with Caroline and Bonnie and enjoy the 'new chapter in her life'. It makes a bitter, twisted feeling form in her chest for a few moments before she shoves it away.

Elena doesn't plan on it, but for some reason, she settles down in London. By the time she did, the months had slipped by so that it was now near the end of September, and the travelling had finally come to a slow. One suitcase filled with clothes had turned into two and the number of pictures and souvenirs she bought began to pile up so that she had to buy another suitcase dedicated just for that. She compels an old land lady to give her an apartment that overlooks the city, but she barely decorates the apartment, with the only evidence of her living there being the suitcases that she had left scattered across the apartment. One in her bedroom, another in the living room, one in the kitchen. It's small, modest. Elena likes living on her own in a big city, but there is this gaping hole in her chest that Elena can't ignore every time she happens to stay in the apartment for the day. She is used to the sound of Jeremy playing x-box in the living room, of hearing the familiar laughter of Jeremy or her parents or friends laughter echo from the floor below. Elena feels limp and numb every time she hesitates before opening her bathroom door, almost as if she is waiting to hear for any signs of Jeremy being there.

And so she rarely every stays in the apartment except to sleep, and whenever she does have to stay, it's always with a bottle of bourbon or whiskey glued to her hand as to drink away her pain.

 _xvi._

 _Dear Matt,_

 _There are so many things that I want to tell you. So many things that I don't know how to say. You are the most loyal person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing Matt. No one tells you that often enough, including me, and I'm sorry if there was ever a moment that you felt like you weren't important to us because we hid the truth from you for so long. That wasn't it . I've caused you so much pain both indirectly and directly, and yet you manage to look at me with such kindness and loyalty. You are an endless ocean of warmth Matt, and you deserve to have everything you want out of life. I just want you to know, that I never regretted letting myself drown that night on the bridge. And that what happened— that night and the aftermath of that night— was never your fault. I hope you know that— I hope you believe that._

 _Love,_

 _Elena._

 _xvii._

It's on a Friday that she meets Oliver.

She's browsing through a book in a bookstore that's about a block from her apartment, and she's leaning against the wooden bookcase, the pile of books she picket out stacked beside her as she stares down at the book intently. It takes her a few minutes to realise that someone's looking at her, and she freezes for a moment before looking up to find a man staring at her. He's about her age, maybe two years older, with dark brown hair that curls over his forehead and grey eyes that have a mischievous gleam in them. She stares back at him unflinchingly and she watches as his eyebrow's raise, as though he is impressed with something. With her. She shakes her head slightly and stares back down at her book before deciding to add it to the pile.

She's forgotten about the encounter by the time she finishes paying, but as she walks out the store with a big bag of books he is standing out at the side, smoking a cigarette.

"That's a lot of books luv," he comments, his accent thick as the words fly off his tongue.

"Observant of you," Elena quips back, staring at him expectantly. She's almost his height in the heeled boots she's wearing, and she watches him take her in. "You know those can kill you," she tells him, before extending out her arm expectantly. He raises his eyebrow at her before placing a cigarette in her awaiting hand and Elena surprises both him and herself when she lights it expertly with the lighter he gives her, and she places the cigarette on her lips, inhaling in the smoke. She can see him watching her from the corner of her eye, but she doesn't look at him.

"You know those can kill you," he says after a while, a hint of coyness in his voice.

Elena can feel her lips twitch upwards as she stubs out the cigarette, and she feels both bitterness towards the world and herself as she murmurs, "Not likely." _You had the choice Elena— you ungrateful—_

"I'm Oliver," he says, extending his hand to shake hers. She hesitates a moment before placing her hand in his to shake it, and replies, "Like Twist?" He smiles at her briefly, and bows, "The one and only." Elena pauses before introducing herself, "Elena." He smiles at her, warm and friendly, but something lurks behind his eyes, a flash of danger and curiosity and Elena is suddenly reminded of Damon.

"Elena," he says, drawing it out, as though he were experimenting her name on his lips. "Pleasure to meet you." And then his lips twitch upward into a smirk, and it's such a _fucking familiar smirk_ that Elena can't help but smile back, her dead heart twisting tightly in her chest.

 _xiii._

He takes her out a week later.

It isn't a date, or anything, so Elena dresses casually with a pair of dark jeans, black halter top and a leather jacket. She meets him by the bookstore where they met, and he wordlessly hands her a cigarette, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks at her, taking her in. She doesn't ask where they are going, and he doesn't tell her, so they walk together in a comfortable silence.

They arrive at a dark pub that is loud with music and stinks of sweat and beer and is largely overcrowded, but she takes off into the crowd with Oliver at her heels with nothing but a smirk on her lips and a glint in her eyes as she dances along to the music, her veins filled with fire. One shot turns to two and then three and then four until she can no longer count and they are still grinding together and with strangers and for the first time in months Elena feels _free._ They sing along loudly to the music, and it doesn't even occur to her that Oliver is supposed to drunk— that he _should be_ drunk, any human who drank as much they did would be in the hospital with alcohol poisoning— until she notices him burying his head into a girls neck. He comes up for a breath with red stained lips and dark eyes and Elena can suddenly feel herself on _fire_ as they stare at each other, and in that moment she doesn't care about anything as their lips crash together in a hungry kiss, the unnamed human being shoved away in the struggle as they stumble through the club and out into the back alley. Elena doesn't care that her back is being pressed into a cold, brick wall or that blood is staining her lips all she wants is _more more more_ but then he pulls away for air and suddenly it feels so wrong that Elena wants to cry.

She shoves him away so strongly that he flies against the opposite wall and her eyes are bright with tears as she lifts a hand to cover her mouth, which is open with horror. _Slut. Whore. Monster. Cheater. Slut._ She flashes away before he can question her, and tears are streaming down her face as she locks herself in a nearby payphone and before she can stop herself she's punching in his phone number with trembling hands.

"Hello?" Damon answers.

Elena doesn't even have the time to feel surprised before a sob escapes her throat at the sound of his voice, and her shoulders are shaking as she struggles to keep the phone pressed to her ear.

"Elena?" he whispers, as though he can't believe it.

"Damon I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—" she repeats it over and over like a prayer before she slams the phone closed and flees the payphone.

She isn't sure how, but Oliver finds her sobbing in an empty park, rocking back and forth, her face buried in her knees as her arms wrapped around her legs.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, sniffling loudly as she swipes at her eyes, "You didn't do anything—"

"Don't apologise," he tells her, lighting a cigarette beside her, "You seem like someone who has been through a lot of shit, newbie."

Elena doesn't even bother to question the nickname.

"C'mon luv," he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"My mom is dead, my dad is dead— my brother, biological parents, aunt and guardian are dead too and—" she buries her head into his shoulder and whispers brokenly, "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Oliver doesn't say anything for a while, and when Elena finally begins to pull away his grip on her tightens.

"Sorry luv but this is for your own good," he comments, and within a second, Elena is dead to the world.

 _xix._

When Elena finally comes to, she immediately notices the lack of noise. London is always filled with noise; cars, people, music etc. But here— wherever the hell _here_ is— is quiet, peaceful, with only the rare chirping of a bird disturbing the peace. She shoots up from the spot where she is lying down, and winces once she accidentally bangs her head against the hard object behind her, and she frowns once she realises that it's a _tree._ She looks around her, and lunges to her feet, taking in her surroundings.

She's on a top of a mountain, with a field all around her, dying flowers and grass giving the area a dull aura, but something about it speaks to her— calms her down. Anger fuels in her veins as she catches sight of Oliver, and before he can stop her she's in front of him, sending a vicious slap in his direction.

"What the hell!" She yells angrily, shoving him, "Where the hell am I?"

"Calm down luv," he advises, his left cheek rapidly losing the redness from her slap, "You need this—"

"Don't you tell me what I need!" she hisses at him angrily, her eyes darkening and her fangs growing.

"When my parents died I came here," he says suddenly, watching her with a cool yet sympathetic expression, "I just came here and let everything out. Let it all go—"

"Don't you get it?" she hisses, shoving him once again, "I can't let go! And I don't want too. Okay, I don't. All I want is to scream all the time because everyone around me is living okay— but my brother _isn't._ He's dead, and it's all my fault. He's dead because I couldn't handle being a vampire— because I was being so fucking selfish and no one told me. Not my friends, not my boyfriend, not my ex-boyfriend _nobody._ And the one person who even tried to tell me is the reason why I became a vampire in the first place. So all I want to do is yell and scream because it is so unfair— so fucking unfair and I can't— I can't handle it, okay?"

There's a moment of silence before he gently turns her around, so that her back is to him, and she's facing the mountainous view.

"If you want to scream," he tells her, letting go of her, "Go ahead. Scream. No one can hear you here."

She doesn't look back at him, and instead moves forward— slowly, hesitantly, fearfully. She can feel the anger begin to swell inside of her— the heartbreak, the rage, the grief and all of it is suddenly booming and expanding into every fibre of her being and for the first time since in forever she let's it overwhelm her and before she know's it she's screaming at the top of her lungs and show's no sign of stopping. The sound is an echo of every heart break she's ever experienced, every person she's ever lost, every decision she's ever regretted. And so she screams because her brother is dead _and she is still here._ It's anger and rage both at the world and at herself combined into one long scream that sends the birds around them flying and her heart is exploding in her chest as the scream begins to die in her throat.

Tears are burning her eyes as she stares around her open mouthed, suddenly feeling _cleaner_ than she had in months. She took a deep breath and screamed again, but this time it was lighter, less angry and hateful and suddenly tear after tear falls from her eye but she show's no sign of stopping anytime soon. She screams because her brother is dead but she is still here for some fucking reason that she'll never be able to figure out and she know's deep down that her brother would want her to move on.

She screams because she knows that she will survive this, however long it takes.

 _xx._

When Elena returns to London, all the words that she didn't know how to write down suddenly come to her, and before she can stop herself she's pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling on the top _Dear Damon._ There's a lump of regret in her throat as she stares down at the paper, transfixed, but she forces her hand to move, to write down all the things that she never had the courage to tell him in person, the things she wishes she had told him (that she could tell him, someday). Once she's done with Damons', and her chest feels a lot lighter, she moves on to Stefan. Her hand pauses on the sheet of paper as she thinks of the words she needs to say and it occurs to her that she never really needed to say what she was thinking when she was Stefan, he always just knew. But she owes it to him, to the _both_ of them, to write, and try to explain.

She posts the letters the next morning, and it's as though a large burden has suddenly been taken off her shoulders, as if she had been carrying the weight of the earth and hadn't even realised it until then. She smiles up at the sky as she walks out of the post office, and for the first time in months, Elena feels _good._

(There is however, a tinge of regret in her heart at the same time, a small, minuscule part of her that regrets leaving, that misses Mystic falls deeply, but Elena needs to find herself first, before she can ever go back)

 _xxi._

 _Dear Damon,_

 _When I told you I loved you, I meant it. It wasn't the sire bond talking, it was me. Elena, the girl you met on the bridge first. You and I, we have more history than most people have in a lifetime, Damon. I love you. Not past tense. I love you, don't you ever doubt that. I know that I didn't send you a letter, and I'm sorry, but I didn't know what to say to you. I don't know how to say goodbye to you Damon, even if it is temporary. I know you're angry with me, you have every right to be, but don't take it out on anybody else, Damon. I wanted to thank you, for everything you have done for me over the years, especially when I turned. You loved me so passionately, regardless of whether or not I was a human or a vampire and that love, made me feel alive even in death. You love so fiercely Damon, I haven't seen anything like it, and I doubt I ever will. I'm not going to ask you to wait for me Damon, that isn't fair nor is it right. I haven't done a lot of things right when it comes to you. I know that, and I'm sorry. I don't know who I am anymore Damon, and the girl that I was becoming before Jeremy died isn't who I want to be. But I know that I can't be the girl I was before that either. That girl died long ago. I need some time Damon, to figure out what I want, who I am. I hope that you're happy, and I just want you to know that I am so grateful to you for fighting for me, for what I wanted, even though it wasn't what you wanted for me. I love you, I hope you know that. I want you to be happy, to find someone who can be with you right now. Forever, even. I'll always love you._

 _Love,_

 _Elena._

 _xxii._

 _Dear Stefan,_

 _When I promised you forever, all that time ago on your rooftop, I meant it. I hope you know that. Everything we had was real, Stefan. I loved you more than I ever thought I could love somebody else. I never thought I would ever be happy again, and then I met you. You saved my life in so many ways Stefan, you made me love, you made me dance, you made me so incredibly happy. And I don't think I can ever repair what has been broken between us. I hurt you, and I hope that one day you don't hate me anymore. Thank you for believing in me Stefan, even when at times I didn't deserve your faith or your friendship. I hope that you're happy. You were the love of my life Stefan, the me that I want to get back so desperately. But I can't ever get her back Stefan. I'm sorry. I hope you get the life you always wanted, the life that you deserve so much. I just want you to know that loving you made me a better person. You were my home Stefan, I'm sorry I didn't tell you when it mattered._

 _I'll see you again someday._

 _Love,_

 _Elena._

 _xxiii._

She slowly begins to develop a routine after she sends the letters.

Oliver introduces her to his friends, Alina, Collin, Bruce and Lynn (all of which are vampires) and she hangs out with them weekly. She gets to know them slowly, slowly, just like she slowly begins to fit herself back together. She gets a job waitressing at a pub during the day hours, and they all tease her for it relentlessly when they meet up at night. Her, Oliver and Alina are the only ones who have daylight rings out of the group. And the apartment that had been so empty and bare, slowly begins to fill out. She drags Oliver and Alina with her furniture shopping, and they help her. She doesn't know about them, doesn't know what keeps them up at night or their stories, but she does care about them in a strange way. Not like her friends back at home, but they are there for each other in a way that matters.

They all collapse with laughter when she gets a ginger cat from an animal shelter near her apartment, and she rolls her eyes at their antics, and cradles the kitten to her chest, shushing his cries. Oliver smiles at her, and laughs loudly, shaking his head, as if he can't believe her. "What's his name?" he asks her.

"Gilbert," she replies shortly.

And life is good.

Until—

Until.

 _xxiv._

Elena closes the door to the entrance of her apartment, juggling the keys in her hands. She can hear Gilbert cry relentlessly in the living room, and she drops the bag of leftover food from the restaurant she had gone to with Oliver, Alina and Bruce and walks into the living room, tucking a strand of hair behind ear. "Coming Gilbert!" she calls out, turning on the lamp, "Shh, boy." It's when she's bent over Gilbert bowl pouring biscuits into it that she realises someone is standing there behind her. She stiffens tightly, and begins to rise, but before she can turn around the intruder speaks.

"Nice cat. Reminds me of Garfield."

Elena dropped the bag of biscuits in shock, her mouth opening as she whirls around to the source of the voice.

"Damon," she whispers, her eyes wide.

He stares at her with a smirk on his lips, but she can see the underlying anger in his eyes as he stares at her. There is a light stubble around his chin that wasn't there before, and his hair is longer than it was before. He looks good.

"What. . ." her voice is hesitant, unsure. "What are you doing here?"

She flinches at the sound of him tossing her small coffee table into a wall, making it shatter violently. Gilbert cries out loudly, and hurries away to her bedroom, eager to avoid the commotion. Elena wishes she could leave with him, but she stands there, still as a statue, and waits for Damon to calm down.

"How the hell can you even ask me that?" he hisses at her, the blue eyes that she loved so much burning with so much anger that Elena momentarily feels like he's staring at Katherine instead. He had never looked at her like that before.

"You leave— no call, no letter, nothing and then decide to send _every single other person in your life besides me or Stefan_ a letter months ago, and then I thought, maybe they lost mine in the mail, maybe she'll come back and look me in the eye and explain to me why the hell she left in the first place! Instead, months after you left— after we found the fucking cure and got your humanity back— you send me a letter telling me to move on and get over you. Telling me that you love me, that it was all real but you can't be with me!" She stares at him wordlessly, folding her arms in front of herself, almost as if she's attempting to protect herself from his onslaught of words. He jabs his hand into one of his jacket pockets, and pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper.

"Dear Damon," he recites, staring down at her letter angrily, his jaw tightening, "When I told you I loved you, I meant it— blah blah blah blah move on, move on, blah blah blah, _I love you, I hope you know that. I want you to be happy, to find someone who can be with you right now. Forever, even. I'll always love you._ And what? Am I supposed to have some sudden epiphany and magically fall out of love you? huh? Magically move on? If you don't want to be with me Elena, look me in the eyes and tell me!" He moved towards her now, and was standing so close to her that she had no choice but to look him in the eye.

"I. . ." her voice is slightly above a whisper, "It's not that I don't want to be with you, Damon. It's just that—" Elena can feel a sudden anger within her begin to blossom, and her fear and hesitance slowly begins to slip away so that her voice is now harder, stronger as she talks to him. "My brother _died_ Damon! I killed somebody! My parents are dead, both biological and adopted, Jenna is dead, Alaric is dead! All of them are dead Damon! I never had the time to process any of it! I always had to keep on being strong and being hopeful to defeat the next person who wanted all the people that I love dead. I never had the time to grieve Damon! My brother was all I had. The last thing that I knew I would always have— the person I love most in the world and he _died._ Okay, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I left without saying goodbye and I'm even more sorry that I didn't send you a letter but I am not sorry for leaving. I had to okay? I— I couldn't _breathe_ Damon. Everywhere I looked, everything I did reminded me of Jeremy and I couldn't handle that. I knew that if I stayed, and told any of you what I planned to do you would convince me not to, and I wouldn't. I had to make a decision _for me_ Damon. I have to find out who _me_ is—"

"I would have come with you Elena, helped you, been there for you—"

"I didn't want you too!" she yells, her eyes burning with tears, "Okay, I didn't want any of you there! This was something I had to do _on my own._ I had to be happy, Damon and if you love me you'll understand—"

"I want you to be happy Elena, I just want you to be happy with me!"

"That's the problem Damon!" She yells, moving away from him, her hands trembling. He stares at her, the anger in his eyes evaporating and suddenly all the anger in her drains away, so that Elena can only feel defeated and so _tired._ "What about the cure?" he asks her quietly, though his voice is still hard. "I thought you didn't want me to take it," she points out.

"Stefan wants it."

"He deserves it," is all she says, though her insides are in turmoil. They are both silent for a moment before Damon asks, "So, this is it then?"

Elena swipes at her eyes and stares at him intently, a lump in her throat. Her eyes are gentle as she gazes at him imploringly, begging him to understand. She steps forward towards him, and gingerly places her hands on the front of his chest. "I love you," she whispers, her heart breaking into two. She presses a delicate kiss onto his stiff lips before pulling away. "I'm sorry," she whispers brokenly, tears slipping from her eyes. Damon nods roughly and steps away from her, unable to look at her. She stares at the floor for a few moments, before opening her mouth to speak— to say something, anything, that will make this easier, less hard but all she finds is an empty room.

She stands there with her mouth open and tears leaking from her eyes and something inside of her breaks. Her shoulders begin to shake violently as she crumbles to the floor, sobs racking through her body.

 _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_

 _xxv._

Oliver finds her eventually.

She doesn't know how long she laid there, staring up at the familiar ceiling, but it must have been long enough for him to be worried. Elena doesn't see his face when he first see's her lying there, but he instantly scoops her up into his arms and carries her to her room, Gilbert trailing behind him. He shuffles around the apartment for a few minutes, feeding Gilbert, opening a window, cleaning the glass from the table that—

Oliver reinters the room.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, and waits for her to speak.

"When my parents died," she begins, her voice soft yet worn, tired, heartbroken, "I broke up with my best friend Matt. He was in love with me, and I wasn't in love with him and I knew it, he did too, I think, deep down. My mom told me to let him go. So I did. And then after she died and I took her advice, I wondered whether or not I had made the right choice you know? What if she was wrong? What if I loved him and I didn't even realise it? What if he was _the one?_ " Her voice turns bitter— with a hint of wistfulness underneath. "I met Stefan after my parents died." His name is a whisper— a familiar name on her tongue— soft, sacred, fragile.

"He brought me into all of this. I felt so empty after my parents died you know? So lost. And then when I met Stefan— I don't know something changed. I loved him, more than I ever thought I could love somebody else. And it happened so quickly you know? I met him, we talked, once—twice and then that was it. I finally felt like I could _breathe_ when I was with him after so long of being under water. I used to walk into his arms and feel like I was home." There's a beat, a moment of hesitation, of shame. "And then he gave up everything to save his brother. Damon. He was everything Stefan wasn't. Selfish, dark, arrogant, angry. . . but he loved stronger than anyone I have ever met. And he was— is a good person underneath everything. Anyway, after Stefan left and turned off his humanity, Damon and I. . . grew closer. There isn't any other way to put it, or say it. He was in love with me, I knew that. He had been for a while. Stefan and I broke up, and my feelings for Damon grew and then we were stuck in one of those cheesy love triangles you see in the books or movies. Damon was passionate and wild but I changed him or at least, I made him want to change. To be better. But Stefan was my home you know, I never stopped being in love with him. I realised that I had feelings for Damon when I was a human, I did, but I loved Stefan more— better. And so I chose him. I told Damon the truth— and then I turned. And I don't know something changed. I was sired to Damon, I didn't know while I was still with Stefan and I found out after we broke up. But by that point I didn't care. Stefan and I grew apart and the sire bond was a part of it. I slept with Damon two days after I broke up with Stefan— and god I will _never_ forget the look on his face when—" her voice breaks.

"I broke his heart," she whispers, "I promised him forever and then _I changed my mind._ And the worst part of it all is that I couldn't understand _why_ he wouldn't forgive me. I apologised multiple times about sleeping with Damon— falling in love with him and he was so angry. So hurt. We tried to be friends. . . and then my brother died. I couldn't accept it— I didn't want to. But then he began to smell—" she choked down a sob, swiping at her eyes, "And I broke. Damon told me to turn it off, all of it, and it broke the sire bond. Eventually, I found my way back because of them— my friends but when I did. . . I just couldn't be around them or in Mystic Falls. I couldn't. I left the people who _never_ gave up on me, despite all of the horrible things I said— the things I did. I always thought that I'd be able to go back one day you know, when I was ready. Just show up on his front door, drop my bags, happy and _fixed_ and he would just open his arms and I would just say I'm home. And then we would live happily ever after."

There's a moment before Oliver speaks.

"Who?"

Elena turns her head to look at him, a confused gleam in her brown orbs. His expression is gentle, sympathetic, probing.

"Whose doorstep would you turn up at?" his voice is kind, caring.

Elena is lost for a moment, unable to answer. Her insides clench tightly as she fights for a name to come out of her lips— any name. _Damon Damon Damon_ her insides whisper; her subconscious whispers but for some inexplicable reason the name doesn't come out of her mouth. Something deep, deep within her resists the urge for Damon's name to form on her lips, and it tugs at her heart strings, forcing her to submit.

"I love Damon," she says finally, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"Yes," Oliver agrees readily, but Elena can sense the _but_ , "But you couldn't be with him, why?"

She frowns at his words, shaking her head as if to rid herself of her thoughts. "Because I'm not ready for that! To be in a relationship, to be with the love of my life—"

"And who is that?"

"Stefan was— when I was a human," she says quietly, though there is a small hint unsureness that is hard to detect.

"Maybe you're not meant to be with either of them," he tells her, "maybe there is someone else out there for you— you have all the time in the world to find them."

Their eyes meet for a few moments, and something passes between them— an understanding, a warning and an apology all blended into one.

 _I could love you one day don't go falling in love with a girl like me and I'm sorry but I won't be able to love you the way you want me too— two boys, one with brown hair and kind green eyes who feels like home and the other with black hair and passionate blue eyes who made me feel alive have the pieces of my heart tucked deep up their sleeves— and I'm far too much of a coward to ever ask for the pieces back._

 _xxvi._

Before she knows it, a year passes by.

One slips into two.

And with each passing year she lives in England and travels. She goes to Africa, Asia and South America and learns new languages and tries new food and she loves it. She thinks of Mystic Falls less and less, and when she does it no longer hurts so much. The desire to go back lessens as she learns to love the new life she's leading. Elena loves the freedom that comes with it— the balance of being able to travel with friends who make her smile and who keep her in check. Her life is normal, all vampire stuff excluded. No chaos. No bad guys.

Her and Oliver grow closer. They buy an apartment together with two bedrooms and Oliver laughs when he wakes up with Gilbert on his face in the morning, teasing her relentlessly about her own cat liking him more. They don't talk about it, but he slowly begins to stop using the second bedroom, and somehow winds up in hers. Their touches grow lustful and their hugs non—platonic. And all is well. It is.

But there is a small part of her that knows something isn't right. That this isn't where she's supposed to be.

"Luv," Oliver calls out, a concerned look in his grey eyes, "You with us?"

Elena's gaze is a little bit gazed as she looks at him, nodding. "Yeah," she says hurriedly, pressing a lingering kiss on his lips, "I'm with you."

 _xxvii._

It's on a Saturday at a concert when Elena sees Stefan again.

She's wearing a pair of high waisted jean shorts and a crop top, with a flower headdress. Oliver's arm is around her waist, and they're singing along to the music with the crowd; their hearts in their throats and fire in their veins.

 _All I want is nothing more, than to see you knocking at my door_

She doesn't notice them at first, the man with the brown hair in the blue t-shirt and the blonde haired girl wearing an outfit similar to hers. She's singing aloud to the song, her hands in the air when she hears the male laugh. He's about five people in front of her, ray-bans adorning his face and his smile is brighter than she remembers it being. It makes her body freeze as time slows around her.

 _Stefan_ her heart whispers.

 _Because if I could see your face once more, I could die a happy man I'm sure._

It takes her another moment to recognise that the blonde is Caroline. Her mouth is agape, and her eyes are hungry as she takes in their bodies, their expressions. They're happy. Content. Full of joy. It makes her chest warm as she gazes at them, and it spreads through her body slowly, like a current beneath the Earth. She feels like Katherine all of a sudden, watching Stefan's life from the outside but never attempting to re-enter it. The thought dims some of the peacefulness within her, and the yearning she feels to walk up to them, talk to them, is suddenly overwhelming. The crowd echoes the singers lyrics— and they _move_ her.

 _When you said your last goodbye I died a little bit inside_

 _I lay in tears in bed all night alone without you by my side_

 _But If you loved me Why did you leave me_

 _Take my body_

 _Take my body_

 _All I want is_

 _All I need is_

 _To find somebody_

 _I'll find somebody_

 _Ooh oh_

 _Ooh oh_

 _Ooh oh_

 _Ooh oh_

 _'Cause you brought out the best of me_

 _A part of me I'd never seen_

 _You took my soul and wiped it clean_

 _Our love was made for movie screens_

"Elena," Oliver says forcefully, trying to shake her out of her trance. She continues to watch the pair, ignoring his calls, and is relieved that they don't hear him. She turns to look at him eventually, the crowd cheering as the set ends, and he must recognise the stricken look in her eye as they quickly flash away from the area. She's shaking fervently and she's blinded; all she can see is their smiles and their laughter echoes in her ears. She shakes it off quickly, and convinces Oliver to go home an hour later, needing an hour to herself.

It's a lie of course.

She finds them again, not having to search too hard. She follows them, carefully, hesitantly, watching them interact with each other. Their actions are carefree and light, and their smiles never reach their faces. Elena wonders whether or not they are together, and the thought makes her insides flinch for a second before she shamefully realises that she has no right to feel that way. She gazes at them from afar, and she jumps slightly when she notices Damon joining them, with Bonnie quickly catching up with them. Her heart aches staring at them, and she doesn't even notice Oliver standing next to her until they're practically standing shoulder to shoulder.

The silence is heavy between them, and it propels her to speak.

"I don't love him anymore," she says, even though he didn't ask.

She watches him from the corner of her eye, her brown eyes gently probing into his thoughts.

A sad smile forms on his lips as he stares at her, his grey eyes filled with understanding.

"It's the way you say _him_ that tells me otherwise."

 _xxviii._

She returns to Mystic Falls two months after the concert.

Elena left with nothing but the clothes on her body and a wallet, and she returns with a cat, lighter hair, and an even lighter heart, the demons of the past having been tamed. Oliver had let her go with a sad smile and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Her farewell from her friends had been bittersweet, but it felt right. Good. Right down to her bones.

She waits nervously in their dorm room, her suitcases laid down in front of her with a few cardboard boxes and a cat kennel. She stares down at her beat up all-stars, smoothing out the non-existent lines in her jeans. Elena wonders what to say to them as she fiddles with her hands, but her thought process comes to a screeching halt as the door flies open, revealing a middle-in-conversation Caroline and Bonnie.

Her heart leaps to her throat as she rises to her feet, her dead heart beating rapidly in her chest— far faster than whenever she was human. They stare at each other for a few long moments, before she opens her mouth to say something—anything. She's cut off by Bonnie's sob as she runs towards her, engulfing her in a hug. Caroline joins soon after, and then they're all sobbing on the floor but they're laughing too.

And Elena knows all is not forgiven, she knows that they have a lot too work out, but she also knows that they can make it.

It takes three hours of going through pictures and stories and catching up when the topic of the cure comes up. They both turn hesitant and unsure as they share a glance, and she looks at them patiently, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

"Stefan took the cure!" Caroline blurts out after a few moments.

There's a moment of a strange anticipation before Elena responds.

"Good," she says, her voice warm, "He deserves his happy ending." Her voice is soft as she says it; warm familiar.

"Damon moved to New York about a year back," Bonnie supplies hesitantly, "They both come up and visit once every month."

Her heart cracks in her chest, but she takes it in stride, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and petting Gilbert leisurely, who had sat himself down in her lap.

"I hope they're both happy," is all she says, and they quickly move on to another topic and they talk for hours on end until the sun has long since set and they all begin to yawn. They all squeeze themselves into one bed, snuggling into each other and just as she's about to fall asleep, Bonnie having done so long ago Caroline whispers, "They both still love you, you know. They're both still waiting for you to show up on their door one day. You have the choice to be with either of them. Bonnie made another cure—"

Elena startles upward, her eyes wide with shock as she gasps, "What? How?—"

"Doesn't matter," Caroline says instantly, her eyes urgent, and it is then that Elena see's some of the frustration she feels towards her. "The point is," she whispers, "Is that you have the choice, Elena. Whenever you're ready. But just know that time is running out for one of them."

They both settle in after that, but Elena doesn't fall asleep for a long while.

 _xxix_

It takes time and hard work to finally earn her friends forgiveness for leaving.

There are moments when they had screamed at each other, and moments when they had cried with each other, but they had stayed by each other's sides through it all.

She graduates from Whitmore College with a degree in English Literature, two years after Bonnie and Caroline's graduation, and her heart melts in her chest when she goes on stage to collect her degree, and her friends cheer for her loudly in the crowd, creating the most noise out of everyone. Matt is there, with his girlfriend Penny, Caroline, Tyler and Bonnie and Damon and Stefan. A small part of her aches when she notices the absence of Jeremy, Jenna, her parents and Alaric, and she knows that a small part of her will never stop missing any of them. But she has learnt to live on her own. To depend on herself. And she has found out who she is.

She's ready now.

(Elena takes the cure one month after her graduation, with her bags and boxes packed, moving out from the house she's shared with Caroline, Bonnie, Tyler, Matt and Penny. It may have taken a while to get there, but Elena had always known deep down that this is where she would have ended up. But something's missing. Something she can't quite explain. It's the same reason why she called him and not the other's all those years ago. She knows it, and she's accepted it. She hopes he still knows it too)

 _Epilogue_

Elena hesitates a moment before pushing the door of the restaurant open, a bell chiming loudly as she did so. She fiddles with her hands nervously, her eyes fluttering across the crowded restaurant. She is nervous, unsure even. More so than she has been for many, many years. Elena fiddles with the ring on her finger, and smiles as it gleams in the sunlight. Elena doesn't need it anymore, but she still wears it. She hasn't ever taken it off. She stands high in the threshold on her black elegant heels, and the floor length sundress she's wearing is a brilliant shade of red that matches the colour of her recently painted nails.

Her suitcase is behind her, but there's another dozen being guarded by the taxi driver outside on the sidewalk. The restaurant is warm and cozy, and the food's aroma lingers under her nose, making her stomach grumble loudly. Her gaze flickers across the room, in search of _him._ Her heart pounds furiously in her chest, causing her cheeks to warm, and she still feels uncomfortable at the sensation.

(Her heart had stopped beating for years and Elena only became a human again a week ago)

A waiter walks up to her with a polite smile plastered on his face, but before he can speak she quickly cuts in, "Can I please talk to the owner? Mr Salvatore?"

The waiter eyes her curiously before nodding, and Elena lets out a nervous huff, and her legs begin to shake due to her nerves. _What if he says no? What if he never wants to see me again? Elena what are you doing— what are you—_

"Sorry can I help you. . ." his voice drifts off into a startled expression once he realises that it's her. She freezes at the sight of him, the speech she had memorised suddenly evaporating from her mind, and her mouth is slightly agape but no words fall from her lips. They stare at each other for god know's how long before Elena finally breaks the silence.

"Hi," she whispers shyly, her cheeks warming as she clasps her hands together.

He stares at her with an unreadable expression, before his eyes flicker down towards her suitcase. Elena can see him freeze at the sight of the suitcase, she can tell by the way his jaw locks ever so slightly and his eyes narrow marginally and Elena doesn't know what to do with herself.

"I can go if you want," she blurts out, wringing her hands, "I just—I just— there are more suitcases outside and a freaking _cat_ and I know it was presumptuous for me to come here and oh god I really didn't mean to do anything to hurt you—" she rambles on continuously until she notices that he's smiling at her with such an expression of adoration her heart melts in her chest. "I love you," she tells him, and she looks him right in the eye, so that he can _see._ See that she means it more than anything in the world.

Elena can feel the cold metal of the ring against her skin, and for the first time in years she slips it off, watching as his eyes widen in surprise.

"When did you—"

"Last week."

There's another moment of silence and Elena is just about to say his name before he smiles at her, sweet and gentle (just like she remembers) and whispers, "Hi."

And Elena relaxes, because for the first time in years, she finally feels like she's home.

 **A/N Wow guys, this took forever to write. I hope you all enjoyed this please feel free to tell me your thoughts in the review section! Thank you all for everything! I hope you all have a great holiday! Merry Christmas!**

 **Until another time,**

 **Fionakevin073**


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